For the Birds
by corneroffandom
Summary: Ricochet thinks he's uncovered Pete's secret hobby.


Portland is cold, but beautiful at this time of year, and Ricochet gazes around happily at the sights. "Pete, come _on!" _he insists, grabbing at his hands. "We have plenty of time before Takeover, I wanna do some sightseeing!"

Pete groans. "Bloody hell, Ricochet," he mumbles, reluctantly trudging along. He's sore and cranky after the plane flight from hell with Matt Riddle and their tag tournament trophy in the hold of HHH's private plane. "I don't understand-" He hisses as he steps wrong going down a hill. "Why we have to do this _now!"_

Ricochet turns and steadies him, hand warm on the side of his face. "C'mon, you'll enjoy it. I swear. If not, we can go back to the hotel and do whatever you wanna do."

"I just want to sleep," he grouses. "Damn Riddle and his harebrained ideas." Ricochet's touch is gentle, however, and he leans into it, closing his eyes for a few moments before he feels Ricochet's hand slip into his, dragging him along through the trees. He bites his lip, trying not to completely lose his mind, as Ricochet continues walking with a purpose. On one hand, Pete wants to ask _why_ now, of all days, Ricochet decides they should go on a jaunt like this, but on the other, he's just too tired to formulate the words, so he silently follows along, stumbling and chilled the entire way.

"Ooh, here, here," Ricochet whispers, dragging Pete down to sit behind some bushes.

"What the-?!" Pete sputters, his frustration mounting when Ricochet claps a hand over his mouth. "Mmff-"

"Sshhhhhhh," Ricochet whispers. "You'll scare them off!"

"Scare _who_ off?" Pete hisses once Ricochet moves his hand away. Ricochet doesn't respond and Pete groans softly, the cold ground doing nothing for his sore muscles. _I'm going to be useless in that tag match later,_ he thinks, burying his gloved hands in his pockets and staring at Ricochet, hoping he'd get the point eventually.

Unfortunately, he does not, and time ticks slowly by until- "Oh my God, is that a dark eyed junco?!" Ricochet asks with a soft grin, tugging at Pete's hand. "Get your phone out, we should take a picture of it!"

Pete squints at the bird resting on a branch in the trees a few feet away. "I... don't know?" he mumbles, unimpressed by the tiny creature, dark grey wings fluttering this way and that as it preens itself.

Pete tries. He _really,_ really does. It means a lot that Ricochet had come to see him compete at Takeover, he's glad to have the man by his side through some of Riddle's more ridiculous ideas, his tag partner not seeming as affected as Pete was by that terrible trip _to_ Portland- but this quickly turns obnoxious, Ricochet pleased to sit in the cold and point out random birds that keep landing anywhere around them with the enthusiasm that he usually only puts towards wrestling. One more mention of a possible _hummingbird_ sighting and Pete explodes. "What the bloody hell is this, Trevor?!" He barely even reacts as _all_ of the birds in the immediate area take flight, some animals scrambling to escape as well.

Ricochet gapes at him, eyes wide and face pale. "Wha- what do you mean, it's... it's birdwatching," he says weakly.

"I gathered as much," Dunne says. "But _why?"_

Ricochet swallows. "I thought... I thought you'd like it," he says.

Pete stares deep into his eyes. "In what world would I ever seem like the _bird watching type?"_ he snaps. "Especially when I have a match in a few hours!"

Ricochet winces, suddenly looking really upset. "Listen, I understand if you didn't want to tell everyone, it's- it's different, and some of the guys _would_ probably make a joke out of it, but I understand, and I think it's probably a pretty cool hobby, and I just- I just wanted to support you-"

Pete stares at him as Ricochet reaches into the bag he'd barely noticed up to this point, full of snacks and bottles of water and various other things- horror shoots down Pete's spine as he wonders how long Ricochet would've allowed this to go on if Pete hadn't lost his cool. But his thoughts are disrupted by something heavy being pressed into his hands and he looks down at it. "A bird watching book," he says blandly. "So wha-"

His voice catches. He realizes. _Birds of Prey. By Pete Dunne. _He stares at the cover until Ricochet's voice starts registering. "I found this at the local library, and it seemed so cool, all of these things you knew about birds and I just thought you'd like to come out and maybe get inspiration for your next book, or something. I never meant to disrupt your planning for Takeover, I-"

Pete painstakingly turns the book over, and opens the dust jacket to look at the back of the book. As soon as he's found what he's looking for, he hands it over to Ricochet and watches his face as he searches the page. It's clear when Ricochet sees it because the jacket slips out of his trembling fingers. Pete exhales and picks the jacket up, giving the author's photo of a silver haired man smiling brightly on the back one more cursory glance before putting the book back together and tucking it into Ricochet's bag. "This Pete Dunne," he says slowly, "is not me. I am not a bird watcher and I never have been. Probably never will be."

Ricochet closes his eyes and groans into his hands. "Oh my God, Pete, I'm so sorry, I just- I assumed- it was so _stupid,_ I should've looked at that. I dragged you out here in bitter February weather just for _this_-" He shakes his head. "I just wanted to do something nice for you, and instead I made you even more miserable when you could be nice and warm and relaxed back at the hotel. I'm really, really, really, really, really-"

Pete sits there and listens to his muffled speech as the chain of _reallys_ drag on and on, and finally he scoots forward and grips Ricochet's hands, dragging them away from his face. "Hey. _Hey_," he snaps when Ricochet doesn't seem to register him at first. Once their eyes meet, he smirks a little bit. "Listen, of course this wasn't exactly how I would've preferred to spend my afternoon, but..." He exhales. "You saw something you thought I would enjoy and your first thought was how to make it so I could do it when you knew I was tense and frustrated because of Matt. Not many people would do that."

"I'm really sorry," Ricochet breathes out and Dunne rolls his eyes.

"Stop apologizing," he murmurs. "It's fine. The good far outweighed the bad here." Ricochet looks up at him and Pete shakes his head. "I was able to spend an afternoon alone with you, right? Trust me, it was definitely an improvement over Matt and all of his stoner jokes."

"You like his stoner jokes," Ricochet says with a small smile.

Dunne frowns at him, eyes softening slightly. "Yes, I suppose in a way I do," he concedes, wrapping an arm around Ricochet and tucking him in close. "Now what do you say we go back to the hotel and leave these silly birds to their own devices for a bit? Hm?"

"Yes please," Ricochet agrees, getting to his feet and pulling Pete up with him. "Get a nice, hot shower going, and order some room service, and you can get in a nice nap before we go to the arena, and-"

Pete half listens to him talk as they stumble together back up the hill to the car, a smile playing at his lips.


End file.
